1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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